Una Maschera
by BarnumOnTheBrain
Summary: Athenodora is a colourful character or so I imagined , and this fic touches on the relationship she has with her infamous husband. Oneshot, M for lemons.


**This fic is less about the lemons, and more about adding flesh to the bones of Athenodora that I constructed with my fic 'The Library'. I really wanted to give her some life, and I took this opportunity to do so. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.**

**Reviews make me happy, so if this fic made you smile, please leave a review to make **_**me**_** smile!**

So as a human, I'd only ever slept with someone once. I didn't especially want to – I was young, about twelve (shocking, I know) and my parents had just married me off to a sixteen year old boy. He was a nobleman's son, so I figured I could do worse. I know you're probably disgusted at how young I was, but that's how things were done back then! You died young, really young, and had to fulfil your life's purpose before time ran out. It so happened that my life's purpose was to birth as many heirs as possible for the noble family's wealth – and believe me, there was a lot of it!

I wasn't happy about the arrangement – not the sex, at least - but they gave me pretty dresses and a few of my own ladies to wait on me, so I was content. We were married in the small chapel, and the priest blessed us as we entered out marriage bed in the evening. My husband didn't beat around the bush, and got straight down to business. It hurt like the Devil, and I hated the feeling that there was something alien inside of me. I felt no pleasure whatsoever, and didn't mourn him especially when he was killed in a tavern brawl the following evening.

Besides, his chest was completely bald. Even at such a tender age, I didn't like the idea of _that_. It seemed girly.

I was turned when I was no more than eighteen. That hurt too. Oh man, it hurt. Why? Why would it hurt so much? I mean, what did I ever do to that blasted venom to make it burn like that? I never hurt it. Much later on, we began discussing why the venom hurt so much – Aro figured it's because the human cells undergo so much change and manipulation. Well, if that's what Aro says, it _must _be true! Tosser.

Mind you, if Sulpicia heard me talk like that she'd have my guts for garters. Thank goodness she doesn't have a gift like that Cullen's. Despite what Aro boasts, I bet she's no more gifted in the chamber than a scullery maid. Eurgh, what a disgusting thought. I'll never be able to get over when they burst in the Grand Hall that one time when I was painting in the corner. I wouldn't let Caius touch me for weeks. That night haunts me. No, literally, _haunts _me. The guard still trying to figure out how the marble pillar got so badly cracked for no apparent reason – tell you what, give it one good whiff and you'll know far more than you want to.

Anyway, I was no more than eighteen when I was turned. Never did find out who my maker was though – and even if I did, I'm not sure if I would thank him or set Felix on him. Actually, scratch that – hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. This life is pretty cushy and way safer than my human life, but the constant lust for blood? No thanks. So I was eighteen. Running through the forests of Eastern Europe alone was the only time in either of my lives when I was free. Really free. I could do as I pleased, whenever I pleased – so long as I steered clear of Romania. Stupid dictating monsters. But I loved it. I felt pretty lonely, but I was finally free! I tried to steer clear of young families, and I preyed on the elderly; the ones crippled with disease, the ones with no family left. I made it sweet for them. I told them that I loved them for the sacrifice they were making for me. I made them smile one last time. It made me feel less of a she-devil.

Now? Now I take what I can get. Caius used to keep the old ones aside for me, but now he doesn't bother. So long as he gets his fill, nothing else in the world should matter to anyone! It's annoying. He's changed so much over the past thousand years – but I'm still stupidly in love with him.

So where was I? Oh yes, eighteen years old, running through the forests. I saw him one day, running almost alongside me, only a hundred yards between us. I snarled at him, but he merely grinned at me. I let him run with me for a few hours before I stopped.

"And who might you be?" I had asked him haughtily.

"I'm all you need," he had winked back. Back then, before the power, he had been cheeky, mischievous and flirty. I rarely saw that side of him anymore. He stood nearly six feet tall, a slim build and bright white hair.

"How old are you?" I had asked him a few days into our running.

"About forty years old," he had smiled. "I didn't care to keep track of my human years that much."

"That's old."

"And yourself?"

"Just eighteen. I was turned two and a half years ago."

He frowned slightly. "That's young."

"I find human age doesn't matter anymore." That was totally a hint, and I really hoped, no matter how inappropriate it was, he picked up on it.

He looked at me curiously. "Where's your mate?"

Wow. That was sudden. I didn't see that one coming. "I don't have a mate. Neither do you. I can't smell anyone else on you."

"You took care to smell me?" he seemed amused. Smug git.

"I didn't want someone turning up unexpectedly," I defended myself pointlessly.

"What were you planning on doing that required privacy?"

"Nothing of an impure nature." Lies. All lies. And he saw through my lies. He knew exactly what I was planning. He knew I was already in love with him.

I didn't. I didn't believe in love. My mother had been locked in an unhappy marriage that had started so promisingly. Father took mistresses half his age and had a few bastards on them, and Mother was shunned aside. She still loved him, and it killed her how he sought enjoyment elsewhere.

I believed in lust. Not love.

A month together and I began believing in love. Sure, I wanted to sleep with him, but I wanted so much more than that. I wanted to be his, and him to be mine. I wanted to take his hand and just hold it, I wanted to talk to him about anything, everything. I wanted him to run by my side forever. Cheesy, I know.

He came into my rooms silently. I looked up from my book to see him close the doors between my presence chamber and sleeping chamber. Without saying a word, he began undressing slowly. His black cloak fell from his shoulders onto the cold stone floor, revealing the deep red shift shirt he wore beneath. I bit my lip and sank further into the back of my chair. This was unlike anything he'd done in a long time. The cheekiness was back in his smile, the hint of the heart of a flirt glistened in the back of his eyes as he pulled the shirt over his head. I saw every curve of his torso, every tiny movement of muscle and moaned quietly.

Before my husband could do anymore, I stood up and walked slowly to him, my eyes roaming his body. He grinned as my hands rested on his chest, playing with the little curls of hair there, my eyes never leaving the miracle of his perfect body. He smelt familiar – musky, smoky, with the unexpected hint of pine. I leant in slowly to kiss his chest, letting my lips rest on each place for a moment or two before moving. My tongue darted out here and there to taste him. He tasted just as he smelt, just as he had for the past millennia. My fingers stroked his chest hair lovingly before moving slowly down the sides of his body and I felt him shiver. Smiling, I pushed his black trousers down and let my hand rest on him for a moment.

"Dora," he groaned throatily, running his fingers deep into my hair. I smiled, and raised my lips to his, placing my hands on his strong neck.

My mouth hovered millimetres from his, teasing him mercilessly. I loved the feeling of knowing that the creature I adored loved and wanted me so much he had to restrain from moaning my name. Even then, he couldn't quite. It put me on something of a high.

He couldn't stand it anymore, and pushed his lips against mine. My knees nearly buckled underneath me as his moved seamlessly against mine. Tension jolted straight down to my throbbing centre. His rubbing mouth on my lips froze my mind, and suddenly nothing mattered in the world but him. Not Jane and her childish anger, not Sulpicia and her git of a mate, not Carlisle and his infuriating coven, not even the changes in my husband. Because for now, he was as I had always know him; the charming new vampire who wanted nothing on this Earth but me, no power, no domain, just _me._

Carefully, so as not to break our sweet, powerful kiss, Caius lifted my legs and carried me back onto the grand bed, sitting with me on his lap.

"How is it fair," he breathed, breaking away from me quickly, "that you get to see me in all my glory whilst you are still covered by an absurd amount of clothing?"

"I love you," I laughed quietly, climbing out of his grasp. Slowly, so he didn't miss a thing, I unzipped my tunic dress at the back, facing away from him so he saw it fall to the floor, revealing me wearing nothing but underwear. I heard him let out a quick, low laugh and smiled. Reaching behind me, I popped open my bra clasp and leant my head back, hiding my back with my chocolate brown hair. The white modest garment fell to the floor in front of me.

Somewhere behind me, Caius had gotten up and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You're teasing me," he mumbled into my hair, his breath tickling my neck. "And I just can't have that."

My knickers were torn away before I could protest and I felt his hardened member press into my back as his arms wrapped around me. I span round to face him, looking him hard in the eye. He stared right back.

Imagine the person you fantasize about, whether they are real or not, the one that you daydream about, the one who features in all the little stories in your head. The one who you look up to in a way, the one who would really make you tick. Imagine them in a real life situation, like walking through the door in front of you. Try to picture them, really there in front of you. See their eyes, their hair and their posture. Isn't that unreal? Doesn't it make your heart leap, even if it is for just a second? That's what it felt like as I stared into his ruby red eyes just then. Like everything I imagined was there, the one that I would fantasise about was in my arms.

He was like a dream, only better. Because he was real.

I pushed him back onto the bed in a sitting position, my eyes never leaving his, and slipped onto his lap. The feeling of him inside of me was so familiar, so natural, but still so exciting. Every time with him felt like the very first. His eyes closed briefly as he felt the tightness of me around him a groan escaped his lips. I leaned back into his arms as he began thrusting inside me and closed my eyes. I felt his lips latch onto one of my breasts, teasing and biting, sending surges of pleasure right through me. My hands ran up and down his back, feeling the movement of the muscles under my fingers only bringing my closer.

The feel of him moving inside me was overwhelming, and I buried my head into his shoulder as we climbed together. With every thrust a small moan escaped my lips, growing louder and louder with every push, before I was crying Caius' name, and he mine. He sound of my name on his lips, the feel on his hands clutching at my waist, the knowledge of him inside me pushed me blindingly over the edge and I shuddered as the wave of pleasure washed over me entirely. He came a split-second after me, spilling into me with one final groan of my name.

I'm not going to lie, it wasn't the best sex we'd ever had. But he was more himself in those ten minutes than he had been in ten years, and that's what mattered to me. I'm not mated with him for intense lovemaking – if I was interested in that, I'd be with Demetri – but he is mine. He's the one who made me believe in love, love that lasted. He's the one I know will protect me until the very end of time, maybe even beyond that.

Everyone who visits us, everyone who knows of us, thinks Caius is the monster of us. After all, he's the one that called for the destruction of the Children of the Moon, the one who led the attack on the Cullens, the one who locks his mate away from the world. But he only does that to keep me safe. Not Aro and Marcus, not the vampire world in general, not even himself.

But me.

And I think too many people don't care to look beyond the ice pillar he appears to be. He is a great man – but he hides behind his cruel mask, the mask now only I can remove.

**Like I said, this fic was less about the lemons and more about exploring Athenodora and Caius, both as a pair and as individuals. Thoughts?**


End file.
